


Opening Up a Brand New Door

by Politzania



Series: The Kid is Hot Tonite [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Developing Friendships, Eventual winteriron, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Young!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: After graduating college, Tony Stark is being groomed to take over Stark Industries.  As he learns his role, he makes new friends and discovers that perhaps he isn't quite who everyone thinks he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: This is a mostly-prequel to [ _Wait and See (if it’s the best you ever had)_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802497/chapters/34247855) and told from Tony's POV. Many thanks to Scotty for beta'ing and providing insight into the GQ/GF community. 
> 
> ETA: Now with FANART courtesy of the amazing and talented [ beir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beir/pseuds/beir) !!! See end note 
> 
>  
> 
> Name of Piece: Opening Up a Brand New Door  
> Square Filled: K2 - coffee shop  
> Rating: Teen  
> Warnings: deals with gender identity issues and self-doubt regarding such.  
> Summary: After graduating college, Tony Stark is being groomed to take over Stark Industries. As he learns his role, he makes new friends and discovers that perhaps he isn't quite who everyone thinks he is. Eventual WinterIron meet-cute, but mostly Tony & Pepper (& Natasha, in future chapters) friendship bonding.  
> Created For : @tonystarkbingo

Tony’s stomach roiled in protest as the elevator bounced gently upon reaching the ground floor of Stark Industries’ headquarters. The first shot of his father’s scotch had burned going down, but not as much as Howard’s awkward semi-speech about Tony ‘coming back to the fold’ and how he would soon be taking his rightful place in the company -- once the Board of Directors approved, of course. 

They had the next year of his life all planned out: Obadiah and Howard would trade roles for several months, with Tony learning the ropes under his godfather’s tutelage. Once the proposal to make Tony a Junior Vice President passed the board, they would be off to the west coast and Howard would return to the New York headquarters. And if his mother had her way, she’d have him at least engaged to a lovely girl by that time, regardless of his own interests. 

The second and third celebratory shots had gone down a little more easily, but then Obie clapped him on the shoulder and told Howard, ”I’ll take good care of your boy while you and Maria have a fine time out in California.” The comment made Tony uncomfortable; he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he wasn’t quite sure whether he always felt like a man, either. 

Tony had crossdressed for a lark on a few occasions in college, and found himself surprisingly at ease in so-called ‘women’s clothing’. He’d had dreams where he was female; and upon waking, his own body would feel foreign to him. Not often, and not for long, but the sentiment left him restive. He also found he was less and less tolerant of stereotypical behavior and expectations, both on the part of others as well as himself. He wanted to make a change in his life, but didn't know what it was.

So with both his body and his mind feeling a bit off-kilter, Tony stepped out of the elevator, breathing a prayer of thanks as he saw the Open sign still in the window of the little coffee shop in the lobby. “Oh my god, you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed as he walked through the door. 

The barista, a tall, slim, strawberry blonde blushed slightly as she said “Oh my -- thank you!” 

“Sorry, I was talking to the espresso machine,” Tony explained. “Not that you aren’t beautiful, miss, because you are, but I really, really need caffeine right now if I’m going to continue to function in any meaningful way.” 

She raised one eyebrow, but there was a smile playing around her lips as she replied. “I see. Well, then, welcome to Perks at Work. What can I make for you?” 

“A large cold brew with an extra shot or two.” 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you needed caffeine,” she commented over her shoulder as she assembled his order. “Got a late night ahead of you?” 

“Yeah.” He was itching to tinker some more with the targeting algorithm he’d been working on, but he had stacks of documentation he was supposed to go through to familiarize himself with the workings of his father’s greatest achievement: Stark Industries. 

“I hope this helps.” Her nametag was obscured by the tip of her ponytail, but Tony caught a glimpse of her SI badge, which listed her first and middle initial and last name. Upon reading it, he couldn’t help but let out a giggle. 

“Potts? Your last name is Potts and you work at a coffee shop?” Her expression flattened into the polite customer service smile he’d seen so many times, usually when one of his parents was making a scene. Tony slapped a hand across his mouth. “I am so sorry,” came his muffled apology. “I swear, I have a much better brain to mouth filter when I’m not so tired and more sober.” 

“You were drinking on the job?” Ms. Potts responded archly. “You know you could get fired for that.” 

“I wouldn’t be so lucky,” Tony mumbled, then added in a normal speaking tone, “Actually, my bosses and I were celebrating a little. I kind of got a promotion.” 

“Congratulations.” But her response was still on the cool side; it seemed he’d once more gotten off on the wrong foot with someone. 

“Thanks. And thank you for the coffee.” He took a long sip -- it was strong and a bit bitter, but he resisted the temptation to dump a ton of sugar in it, knowing all too well how hard he would crash later if he did so. “I’ll try to be better behaved next time.” 

Her demeanor softened slightly. “It’s fine. Have a good night.” 

“You too, Ms. Potts.” 

\-----------------

A couple of days later, Tony made another late night visit to the coffee shop. He brought his tablet with him, as he was stuck on a tricky bit of programming and was reluctant to set it aside, even for a moment. He was pleased to see Ms. Potts behind the counter, and made an effort to be a good customer, making eye contact and giving his order clearly and in a logical order. 

In turn, she seemed happy enough to see him, and they chatted a little as she prepared his drink. “Don’t you ever go home?” she teased. 

Tony wasn’t really sure where home was, anymore. Sure, he had his apartment, a nice one on the Upper East Side, but it was just a place for his stuff, most of which his mother had picked out. Dum-E was still in storage until Tony could talk Obie into assigning him a secure lab area; he didn’t want anyone else poking and prodding at his ‘bot when he wasn’t around. “Not much to do there,” he replied with a shrug.

“What about going out with friends?” 

Tony shrugged again. “He’s in the military, so I don’t get to see him much.” 

“You only have one friend?” Her brow wrinkled in concern. 

“Pretty much.” As he paid, Tony read her nametag; she didn’t look like a Virginia. Maybe Ginnie, or even Ginger, considering the red tint to her hair. But he didn’t know her well enough to give her a nickname yet, he supposed, so instead, he just said “Thanks.” 

Tony took his cup and sat at one of the tables, having been hit with a bit of inspiration for his program. But once he started working through the latest iteration, the code stubbornly refused to cooperate. Groaning in frustration, he put his head in his hands. This dislodged his too-long bangs which flopped into his face. 

Tony had started growing his hair out, in a somewhat nebulous desire to change his appearance. He tried slicking it back for work, but his unruly curls could only be controlled for so long. As he scribbled on his screen, desperate to make some progress, he kept getting distracted by the hair in his eyes, alternately blowing it out of his face or trying to smooth and stick it back in place. 

“Here, try this.” Tony startled at the sound of Virginia’s voice; she had come over to the table and was holding out a curved bit of metal. He looked at her, mildly perplexed as she ran cool fingers across his forehead, sweeping his bangs to one side before sliding the clip into place with a click. “There. That should hold them out of your way for now.” 

Tony reached up a hand to touch the barrette, a strange, yet comforting feeling spreading through his chest; it was the same feeling he had when he tried on the clothes he’d ordered online and kept in a separate drawer. “Thank you. I’m Tony, by the way.” 

He held out a hand and she shook it. “Pepper.” At his questioning look, she explained. “My grandpa gave me that nickname. I threw a lot of tantrums when I was little and he called me ‘his little pepperpot’, It kind of stuck.” She glanced at the chair across from him as if to ask permission. Tony gestured at the spot and she gracefully sat down. 

“You have lovely hair, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Pepper continued, “And I would kill for your eyelashes. Mine are so thin and pale I have to put on three coats of mascara for them to even be visible.” This broke the ice and they chatted for the better part of an hour, Pepper topping off his coffee once they realized he’d let it grow cold. 

Tony learned that Pepper was fairly new to the city, being originally from upstate. She was finishing up a business degree at NYU, balancing her studies and a job. He glossed over his own history, simply saying that he’d been studying engineering and computer programming before getting hired at Stark Industries. “I’m in the R&D department, working on some pretty confidential stuff.” 

“Well, then, I won’t pry. At least when it comes to your job.” Tony was quickly discovering that Pepper’s reserved demeanor hid a lively sense of humor, as well as a kind heart. He was genuinely reluctant to return to his work and as he got back into the elevator, was already looking forward to seeing her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets and is befriended by another Perks at Work employee; a minor slip leads to her helping Tony explore his feelings about his identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Scotty for helping me beta this fic!

A week or so later, Tony stopped by the coffee shop and a different barista was behind the counter. Her hair was a brighter red, and she was both shorter and a bit curvier than Pepper. “Welcome to Perks at Work. How may I help you?” She had a slight accent, Russian if Tony had to make a guess. 

“Where’s Pepper?” he blurted out. 

“You must be Tony,” the young woman -- whose nametag read ‘Natasha’ -- replied. “She told me to tell you she had midterms and will be back next week.” He hid his disappointment as he placed his order. It had been a tough day, with Obie pressuring him to cut corners on his software testing process and insisting on a progress report on Friday; Tony had been looking forward to a pleasant chat with his new friend. 

As Natasha passed him his drink, she tapped her SI ID. “Security guards are doing sweeps tonight. Do you have your badge?” Tony fumbled around in his bag, finally locating it and clipping it to his shirt. Natasha’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, ho, so you are that Tony.” 

He sighed; he knew would come out eventually, but had been enjoying the relative anonymity of being just another customer of the coffee shop. “Yeah, I am. But don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids.” He’d made a few unwise decisions over the past few years when it came to partying and romantic entanglements, and the paparazzi pounced on every misstep. 

Natasha wrinkled her nose as she made a dismissive noise. “Those papers, they are not worth wrapping a fish in. Pepper says you are good person. I trust her word.” 

Tony felt his face heat in pleasure. “She hardly knows me, but I’m flattered by her kind opinion. Thanks and have a good night.”

Even though Natasha hadn’t made a big deal of his identity, Tony still didn’t feel like facing the inevitable scrutiny that followed everywhere he went, so he stayed close to his desk the next evening. But after choking down a paper cup of lukewarm brown liquid -- courtesy of the indifferently-maintained machine in the break room -- that was almost, but not quite totally unlike coffee, he found his steps following a familiar path. 

“You’re late,” Natasha greeted him, then turned to the espresso machine. “Pepper told me when to expect you and what your favorite drink was.” 

“And what did you tell her?” The words slipped out more accusingly than he’d meant; but it had been another rough day, and the idea that Pepper might think less of him now that she knew who he was rubbed him a little raw. 

Natasha, her back still to him, shrugged. “Nothing she did not already know.” 

“And?” It seemed Pepper was even more observant than he’d given her credit for.

“As I tell you before, she says you are good person. Everyone does foolish things; best to learn from them and move on. Where you come from is not everything you are. ” She set his drink in front of him and smiled warmly, although there was a distant, almost sad look in her eyes. “Trust me on this.” 

There was something about Natasha that he did find trustworthy; he found himself falling into the same easy camaraderie he had with Pepper. Over the next few nights, Tony learned that she indeed was a Russian native, although she had come to the States while still a child. Natasha lived with her foster brother in an apartment building in Bed-Stuy, and they both worked at a club over in Brooklyn, she as a bartender, and he as a bouncer. He told her a little about growing up as an only child with parents so much older than he, trying to downplay the Richie Rich aspects as best he could. 

 

The following Friday, after a tense meeting with Obadiah -- who had practically told him to falsify his results -- Tony was all too happy to see a friendly face and have a chance to unwind. He felt almost giddy as he stepped up to the counter; lightheaded after skipping lunch and dinner. Spotting a book with Cyrillic on the cover -- something Natasha had been reading, he presumed -- a snippet of a poem came to mind, and he found himself reciting: 

> Longing, and mystery, and delight…  
>  as if from the swaying blackness  
>  of some slow-motion masquerade  
>  onto the dim bridge you came.

Natasha turned to face him, one side of her bright-red lips quirked up in amusement. “Ah, you know Nabokov? It is a lovely poem in the original; you quote an ... adequate translation. But surely you are not speaking so to me?” 

“While every encounter with you is memorable, Tash,” Tony replied teasingly, “I saw your book and it reminded me that I memorized that poem to impress a Russian lit major I had a crush on back in college.” 

“Did it work?” 

“Never got up the courage to find out.” Tony had been careful not to specify any pronouns in his response, just in case. He had figured out he was into guys as well as girls back in high school, but Cameron had been his first real crush on another man. Of course Tony couldn’t have followed through, not with the way gossip clung to the heir to Stark Industries like sticky spider webs, ready to ensnare him with a single wrong move. 

“That is a shame. As is the fact our air conditioning is broken.” Tony had noticed that the shop was several degrees warmer than the lobby, and he was already starting to sweat. He’d ditched his tie and jacket back at his desk the moment his meeting was over, and now went to unbutton his shirt a little. 

He froze when he realized, instead of the normal tee he’d wear under a dress shirt, he’d put on a camisole instead. He’d known the meeting with Obediah would be stressful, and wearing something from that particular dresser drawer was both a suit of armor, and a comfort blanket. 

Natasha raised one eyebrow slightly, then reached across the counter, pushing the placket of his shirt to one side to take a closer look. The camisole wasn’t fancy: plain cotton, no lace or other trim, but definitely an article of women’s clothing. “The color suits you,” was all she said. He’d thought so too, which is why he bought it. It was a pale aqua that had been nicely concealed by his shirt until he’d made the dreadful mistake of unbuttoning it. 

At his silence, and what must surely have been a panicked expression, Natasha came out from behind the counter, slinging her bag over one shoulder. She took his hand and led him to the single bathroom in the shop, nearly dragging him inside with her. “Take it off,” she instructed, locking the door as she gestured to his dress shirt, “and sit down.” 

Stupefied, Tony did as he was told. She ran her hands through his hair, freeing up his plastered-down locks. Obie had told him during the meeting that he needed a haircut; “You’re getting downright shaggy, Tony. Can’t have the boss’ kid looking like a hippie.” Natasha then pulled out a makeup kit and started to work on him. Several minutes later, she said, “Go look.” 

Tony stood and stepped in front of the mirror to see a young woman staring back at him. Perhaps not exactly a pretty woman, but definitely feminine-looking. Natasha had fluffed up his hair into a soft halo, then done something to minimize his jawline, and emphasize his eyes and lips, transforming his appearance just enough. His vision blurred for a moment as he braced himself on the sink; his knees gone weak. 

“Do you want to look like this?” Her question was soft and gentle, as was her touch on his shoulder. 

“Yes. No... I mean, not all the time? I don’t know.” And that was what was most confusing about all this. Tony didn’t believe that he should have been a woman, but being a man felt foreign to him at times. He would find himself wondering what it was like to have curves and soft places, other times he was happy with the body he had. Being attracted to men and women didn’t make the situation any easier, either. He wanted to be content with who he was, but he wasn’t sure what that meant.

“It’s okay, _belkachuk_.” Natasha smiled reassuringly at him in the mirror. “You don’t have to know. And you’re not alone. I have friends, close friends, who also do not fit into the narrow little boxes society tries to put us in. They are welcome at the club where I work. You would be welcome, too.” And with a pat on his shoulder, she reached into her voluminous bag and pulled out what looked like a pack of baby wipes. “Alas, perhaps for now you should be just be Tony Stark again.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's friendship with Pepper and Natasha continues to develop, and he picks up a new skill. Natasha talks Tony into a night out at the Triskelion, which takes an unexpected turn.

Natasha’s understanding and kindness unlocked the floodgates; Tony spent most of the weekend researching gender identity online, reading other people’s stories and learning ways to describe what he felt. It was a little overwhelming, but he soaked it all in like a sponge. The logical side of his brain made lists and organized the information in a way that made sense, puzzle pieces clicking into place. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to start making changes in his life, but he felt better equipped to do so when he was. 

The following Monday, Pepper was back behind the coffeeshop counter. “Hey. How’d your exams go?” he asked, happy to see her again. 

“Pretty well, thanks. Sounds like you and Natasha hit it off while I was gone.” 

“Yeah. Um, what did she tell you?” He didn’t think Natasha was the type to out someone, but he’d been burned before by people who pretended to be his friend only to take advantage of him. 

She shrugged. “Not much -- but she likes you. That doesn’t happen often.” A warm feeling spread through Tony’s chest at her words. 

“I like her, too.” 

“That’s good to hear, since she’ll probably be subbing more often. This semester is a lot tougher than I thought it would be and I’d rather take a paycheck hit than lose my scholarship.” 

From anybody else, Tony would have expected them to add something like ‘not that you’ve ever had to worry about things like that.’ but he already knew that wasn’t Pepper’s style. She also wasn’t the type to take money, especially from someone she hardly knew. But perhaps there was something else he could do. 

“Sounds like a difficult choice. Maybe I could help out around here some nights and give you a chance to get some studying done?” 

She looked askance at him “That’s ... a generous offer, Tony. I’ll give it some thought.”

Pepper and Natasha alternated their shifts for the next couple of weeks, and Tony spent a few hours in the coffee shop each night, sometimes bringing work with him, sometimes just to hang out. Pepper had started showing him how some of the equipment worked; he was a quick learner, and was soon pulling shots like a pro. Natasha delighted in coming up with complex orders, rattling them off rapid-fire while Tony ran through the steps first verbally, as a dry run, then (once or twice a night) actually creating the drink 

These visits had become pretty much the highlight of his day, and as he felt more at ease, Tony started talking about his self-perception. He spoke more with Natasha at first, as she seemed to be more familiar with the concepts, but Pepper eventually joined the conversation as well. In fact, she was the first to bring up the idea of changing his pronouns. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if I didn’t use ‘he’ and ‘him’?” she asked one evening while they were cleaning one of the espresso machines. Tony had gotten in the habit of changing clothes after his normal work hours, and was wearing a dusty rose tunic with three-quarter sleeves over a pair of well-worn jeans. Obadiah was still on him about his hair, but as there was no formal grooming code at Stark Industries, Tony continued to let it grow out and could almost pull it back into a ponytail. 

“Maybe?” Tony had given it some thought, but didn’t know how he felt about it. “Can we try ‘they’ for a little while?” 

“Of course. Do you want me to mention it to Natasha?” 

“Please.” Their easy acceptance of his changing identity had bolstered Tony’s confidence immensely, and he was immensely thankful for their friendship. He had told Rhodey all about Pepper and Natasha of them the last time he called, but when Rhodey inquired whether Tony had asked either of them out, he proceeded to explain that he didn’t feel that kind of attraction to either of them. 

In fact, it had been a while since Tony had been interested in anyone, female or male. His last few flings -- with women, of course, since he’d never followed through on any attraction he felt towards another man -- had been just that, flings. Between the scrutiny of the press and his parents, the experience had left a sour taste in his mouth; it was easier to just lock his feelings away; he was used to not getting what he wanted. 

Natasha kept trying to convince him to come to the club where she also worked part-time, and Tony finally agreed, as much to satisfy her request as his own curiosity. He did put a condition on it: that she help him go undercover. It was mainly because he didn’t want to be called out by the paparazzi, but he also was curious to see what she would do with the request. 

In return, she challenged him to bring something from his special drawer, which he’d mentioned to her a few weeks ago. He picked a bright red tank top made from a wonderfully soft knit fabric, a black button down shirt to go over it, tight black jeans and Converse sneakers. It wasn’t flashy, but it was something he felt good in. 

They met at the coffee shop around 9pm Friday night, and she once again took him into the bathroom to make him up. This time around it was much more subtle, just a hint of eyeshadow and mascara, and something to smooth his skin. His hair was artfully mussed, with streaks of gold glitter. “It should wash out in a shampoo or two,” Natasha explained. “Oh, and I bought you this,” It was a tube of lipstick. He tried it on, and while the shade she’d chosen did look good on him, he wiped it back off, as it didn’t feel quite right at the moment. 

When they left the building, Natasha headed towards the subway station, but Tony waved down a cab. “My treat, in exchange for helping me get ready for our night out.” He wasn’t sure he was ready to make a trip on public transportation looking like this -- not yet. 

The Triskelion had an industrial feel that appealed to the engineer in Tony; the renovation team had done quite a job with the turn of the century factory this building had once been. The bar stretched along one wall, perpendicular to the stage, which had a large dance floor in front of it. The rest of the room had tables and chairs grouped together, as well as booths along the wall opposite the bar. 

On their way in, Natasha had introduced him to Clint, her foster brother, who was checking IDs at the door that night. 

“Nice to meet ya, Tony.” Clint was about Tony’s height and build, but had a confident, assertive air that worked in his favor; after feeling the strength of his grip, Tony had no doubt Clint could handle the typical drunk club-goer if the need arose. “Tash says you like coffee almost as much as I do.” 

“Almost?” Tony turned a quizzical eye to Natasha.

“This heathen drinks right from the pot in the morning,” she replied, giving her brother a narrow look. “And usually burns his tongue.” 

“Worth it,” he replied airily. “Uh-oh, looks like we’re holding up the line.” He waved them in. “Have fun storming the castle!” 

Tony had noticed Clint’s earpiece and had assumed it was a walkie-talkie headset; Natasha later explained Clint was hard of hearing. “You’ll notice he spends most of his time up front, where the lighting is better. Makes it easier for him to read lips, and it’s a little quieter, too.” 

As Tony had expected, the dance floor was busy, even though the music wasn’t quite as loud as he’d expected for a club. When Natasha asked him what he wanted from the bar, his first impulse was to ask for a scotch and soda; but that was his father’s drink. “How about a Moscow Mule?” he grinned; she rolled her eyes and placed the order. 

“It’s a good thing I like you, _belkachuk_ ,” she sniffed as she handed him the copper mug. 

“What’s that mean, anyways?” Tony was used to being the one handing out nicknames and was curious what the apparent endearment meant. 

“ ‘Little squirrel’. Because you are always full of energy and interested in everything around you.” Which was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black at the moment, as Natasha’s eyes were focused on one of the other guests as she spoke. All of a sudden, she took a few steps toward an older man, stumbling into him and jostling his elbow sharply.

“Oh, my apologies!” she cried, her accent comically thick. “I have made you spill your date’s drink. And right after you added a special ingredient, yes?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” the man blustered, but there was something about his body language that got Tony’s suspicions up. 

With a sharp smile, Natasha darted a hand into the man’s jacket pocket and pulled out an empty vial. “Oh ho, then what is this? Perhaps in your other pocket you have viagra to get your old man’s _huj_ hard, eh?” She held it above her head, making a quick gesture as she did so. 

“Give me that back, you little bitch!” the man growled, grabbing at her arm. Just as Tony started to step in, Clint appeared out of nowhere. 

“Ah, ah ah,” he admonished, grabbing the man’s upper arm. “None of that. Leave right now or we’ll call the cops. They have a field test that will tell us exactly what was in that little bottle of yours.” The man’s face grew pale; whether because of the threat, or the fact that Clint was digging fingers into the tender flesh of his inner arm, Tony wasn’t quite sure. 

“What about my card?” the man spluttered as Clint turned him towards the door. “I was running a tab and left my credit card with the bartender! If you keep my card, that’s robbery!” 

“Tash, would you get our friend his card, please?” 

“Certainly.” She stepped back to the bar and had a few words with the bartender. Tony caught a flash of light from behind the bar before Natasha returned a few moments later with his card. She handed it over as if it were a dead fish. “Now go, you miserable excuse for a man.” 

Tony was still in shock; he’d heard about young women getting drugged by their so-called ‘dates’, but never thought he'd actually be a witness to it. Correction; he hadn’t even noticed, but Natasha had. “That was ... unexpected,” he mumbled as she came back over to him. 

“It was awful!” she replied heatedly. “This is safe place. Like family. And for a _nyekulturny_ to come in and try to take advantage...” she clenched her hands into fists. “It is wrong.” Her voice shook a little at that last statement, so Tony reached out and gave her a hug. She smiled wanly. “I am sorry to ruin your evening.” 

“I think you saved someone else’s. And then some.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony picks up a new hobby with some help from Natasha; she and Pepper both continue to support their friend's gender identity exploration. And after lots of practice, The Incredible Antonio debuts on the Triskelion stage.

The rest of the evening at the Triskelion passed in a bit of a blur, with one standout being Natasha going over to the side of the low stage where a couple of dancer’s poles were set up. She wound herself around them sinuously, stretching and twisting gracefully in a manner more sensuously athletic than blatantly sexual. Tony recognized some classical ballet moves, as well as gymnastic influences.

Tony had a bit of a gymnastic background himself. When he was young, his mother had enrolled him in tumbling classes to help burn off childish energy, and he’d taken private lessons from a local gymnastic coach for several semesters in college. Once again, the original inspiration had been to get close to a crush, but Tony found he enjoyed the challenge of pushing his body’s limits without having to compete directly against another person. Maybe it was time to pick that pastime back up; after all, he could use the physical activity. 

Tony applauded as Natasha made her way back to him, smiling and slightly flushed. “You didn’t tell me you were a dancer as well as a bartender.” 

She shrugged. “I have done many things to keep body and soul together, with some being more enjoyable than others. I like to dance.” 

“Do you offer lessons?” 

“For you, little squirrel?” She looked him up and down with a intrigued grin. “I would enjoy the challenge.” 

Tony ordered most of the equipment they needed off the internet, and it was easy enough to set up in his apartment. The floor to ceiling mirrors made the space seem even larger, and as for the pole, well, he’d have to have a couple floorboards replaced in order to get his security deposit back, but it would be worth it. 

Natasha came over once or twice a week for what was always a strenuous workout; the other days he practiced on his own, often with a step-by-step video playing on his big-screen TV. He started putting routines together to some of his favorite songs --- 80’s rock being a guilty pleasure of his -- and looked forward to showing them to Natasha once he was ready. 

Tony’s life was falling more or less into a into a comfortable routine. After work, he’d come home, work out for a bit, have dinner and clean up before heading back out to the coffee shop for five or six hours. Pepper and Natasha both were concerned that he was burning his candle at both ends, but he’d never needed much sleep, anyways. That said, he did start putting his glasses on again in the evenings to give his eyes a rest from his contacts.

Both Pepper and Natasha had gotten in the habit of using ‘they’ and ‘them’ pronouns as Tony continued to explore his gender identity; and Tony started to use the pronoun as well. They grew their hair even longer and gaining experience putting on makeup under Natasha’s expert tutelage. Tony's wardrobe continued to expand, even if opportunities to wear most of it were limited to their personal time. 

Pepper made a Perks at Work name tag for Tony that read ‘Ton-E’ -- a clever compromise between the masculine and feminine versions -- and they wore it proudly when behind the counter. This was something Tony was doing more often as the semester progressed and Natasha picked up more shifts at the Triskelion, which paid much better. Tony started emulating the mannerisms of their new friends; although he had to rein himself in during regular work hours, where everyone knew him as Anthony Stark, son of the founder of the company. Meetings with Obadiah became even more draining, as snide comments about Tony’s appearance were becoming commonplace. 

The last straw was Obadiah’s mock-threat about taking a pair of clippers to Tony’s scalp himself before his next meeting with the head of R&D. Pepper asked what was wrong the the moment Tony stepped into the coffee shop. When he explained, she frowned, then patted his hand in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Tony. You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of attitude.” She then got a thoughtful look on her face. “What are you doing next Saturday?” 

Tony double-checked the address Pepper had texted him as he walked up to the store front where a set of disembodied heads stared at him through the window. There were more inside, each wearing long, flowing locks. To his surprise, Pepper asked the clerk to show them men’s wigs. They found one that was a good match with the photo on Tony’s driver’s license and showed him how to use bobby pins and a wig cap. 

“That’s more like it, my boy!” Obadiah clapped Tony heartily on the back as they walked into the conference room. “Hard to get anyone to take you seriously with your hair hanging down around your ears. Now, let’s take a look at those sketches you’ve been working on.” Mildly repelled by Obadiah’s manhandling, he shrugged it off, as he was looking forward to showing off his latest idea. 

When his mentor almost immediately quashed the idea, Tony was crushed. “We’re a weapons company, kid,” Obadiah explained, condescension clear in both his voice and face. “We don’t have time to tinker around with toys. Put those brains and that education of yours to good use and stop messing around with silly stuff like this!” Tony struggled to keep tears from springing to his eyes as he clumsily stuffed his binder of drawings and notes back into his bag. 

But he was too stubborn to give up on his project; even if his father’s right-hand man thought it was a waste of time. While he worked diligently on approved concepts during normal working hours, neither his father nor Obadiah had any say on what Tony chose to spend his personal time on. He could just imagine the expressions of absolute shock of their face if they knew what he had planned for the next Saturday night. 

“Nat, you’re really sure I’m ready?” The glorified broom closet that the performers were using as a dressing room backstage at the Triskelion was buzzing with activity, and Tony's nerves were on edge. 

“Of course, belkachuk,” Natasha replied with a kind smile. “You have practiced every step and move until you could do them in your sleep. Not that you sleep much anymore, eh?” She dabbed a bit more concealer under Tony's eyes before air-kissing their cheeks. “Now, go knock them dead!” 

Tony had signed up for the amateur burlesque a few weeks ago under the name “The Incredible Antonio”, intending to play the boastful name for laughs. But as the event drew closer, Tony worked hard to refine the routine and planned an outfit to match, hoping to live up to the moniker. 

Natasha helped with the costume, finding a pair of pants that looked like dress trousers, but were made of a stretchy knit that would let Tony pull off the fancy pole moves that were a part of the routine they'd worked up. The rest of the three-piece suit came out of Tony's wardrobe, with a red thong hiding underneath. Tony wasn't sure about stripping all the way down, but knowing it was an option somehow gave them confidence. 

The Amazing Antonio strode out onto stage as the opening chords of ZZ Top's “Sharp Dressed Man” blared out from the club’s speakers. All those hours of practice paid off, as muscle memory carried him through the first few moments of stage fright. The crowd was appreciative with a few whistles and whoops, and Tony soon lost himself in the music and movement. 

Tony ended the song bare-chested and breathing heavily, hair damp with sweat; to his astonishment, a few people were actually waving dollar bills at him. Tony took them with an bright smile and words of thanks before picking up his discarded clothing and exiting the stage. 

“It’s kind of addicting, isn’t it?” a fellow performer commented as Tony stepped back into the dressing room. She’d done a hula hoop routine that had left Tony wondering if she had a few extra vertebrae in her spine. 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Do you know when the next show is?” 

“Next month, I believe,” she replied as Tony shrugged his shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned and tying the tails around his waist. He ran a comb through his hair and checked his makeup; the finishing spray had done its job with Natasha’s handiwork still in place. “See you then?” 

“I think so.” Tony left the dressing room and stepped up to the bar. He’d intended to ask Natasha for a soda -- dancing had been thirsty work -- but she slid a old fashioned glass of a mostly-clear cocktail over to him, garnished with a lime. 

“Caipirinha, courtesy of an admirer,” she explained, then cut her eyes to the end of the bar. A guy about Tony’s age, slim and wearing horn rimmed glasses, smiled and waved. As he walked over, Tony took a sip. The drink was tart, but not particularly strong; Tony suspected Natasha had given him a light pour on purpose. 

“Loved your performance, Antonio,” the man said, clapping Tony on the shoulder and leaving his hand there. “Always nice to see new blood around here.” 

“Thanks. And thank you for the drink,” Tony replied, arching his eyebrows and leaving a space at the end of his words in hopes that his new acquaintance would introduce himself. 

“My pleasure, and I’m Justin.” He turned to the bar and called out “Hey, Red, gimme another one of these,” as he pointed to Tony’s drink. Natasha narrowed her eyes at the peremptory command, but started preparing another caipirinha. Justin began chatting Tony up, explaining that he owned his own company and it was “really going places. Gonna be taking it public any day now.” 

In fact, Tony could barely get a word in edgewise during the conversation, and as soon as they’d finished their drinks, Justin practically dragged him out on the dance floor. He didn’t waste any time making his intentions clear, grinding on Tony and groping him clumsily. Tony would normally have been turned off by Justin’s boorish behavior, but it had been much too long since he’d gotten even this physical with someone, and the adrenaline of the performance was spurring him to cut loose and have a little fun. 

The two of them ended up back in the small dressing room, a chair propped under the doorknob for privacy. Justin was a sloppy, less-than-skillful kisser, and was quite put out when Tony declined to get down on his knees. A quick double handjob (with an assist from a bottle of glittery body lotion snitched from someone else’s bag) somewhat mollified Justin, and he insisted on putting his number in Tony’s phone afterward. “Call me when you need the D, babe.” 

Tony deleted the number as soon as Justin left with a shudder. He weren't that goddamned desperate, at least not for the one night stand kind of thing. And Tony didn’t think they were ready for romance either, not until they felt a little more comfortable with who they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - Tony's pronouns waver back and forth intentionally, as he/they continue to explore their genderfluid identity.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
